My Love is Vengence
by Cypher
Summary: “I know I can’t save everybody, but I should’ve been able to save my friend at least…right?” Crossover with the rest of DC verses, slash.


**My Love is Vengeance  
**_By Cypher_

_  
_Robin considered himself to be one of the brighter kids his age. Sure, he sometimes jumped into the water with both feet, but most of the time, he knew his limits. He had to, otherwise, he would've been killed by now. Which made him wonder why the hell he was ignoring his instincts and going into the lion's den. When Batman was upset, it was not wise to disturb him. The phrase "poking a sleeping bear" came to Robin's mind. Of course, in Batman's case, it was more like "jabbing a hot poker up a sleeping tiger's ass." Not the prettiest of pictures and certainly not the action of a sanerelatively sane person.

Not that he could help himself at all.

He found Batman, or rather, Bruce Wayne, beating the crap out of a punching bag. That wasn't unusual, as Bruce worked out regularly every day. He had to in order to be prepared for whatever the psychos of Gotham threw at him. Any normal person wouldn't think twice about the situation, just a guy doing some exercise.

But he wasn't a normal person. He'd known Bruce long enough to recognize the subtle signs. This wasn't just a normal workout session, this was Batman taking out his frustrations. Not at losing a criminal, they were still in line. It wasn't related to Wayne Enterprises, the company was as strong as ever. No, this had to do with something more disturbing. "So, how was Dakota?"

Bruce didn't even slow down in his exercises, but a slight frown now marred the older man's face. Robin didn't need an answer, he knew. Word had reached even the Teen Titans of what had happened, and after his last conversation with Alfred, he knew he had to take a brief vacation from his heroic duties to help his mentor.

"I heard Static got to them first." Oh yeah, he'd hit the nail on the head. Batman let loose one raging punch and stepped away from the swinging bag. "Was there anything left?" Again, he didn't need an answer. Alfred had already told him all three victims hadn't survived, and since Bruce wasn't working at the computer, he doubted there was anything at the scene that would help in finding Static's next move.

Bruce continued to remain silent, grabbing a towel and wiping the sweat from his face away. Robin wasn't dissuaded, this was Batman's usual method of dealing with a loss. Hopping up on the table, he watched the millionaire head for the changing area. "It's not your fault. He lives there. He knows that city as well as we know Gotham."

That finally got a reaction. Batman punched the wall, glaring at the rock. "He killed them." There was an underlying force beneath the words, an anger both at himself and at the teenager. "Didn't even give them a chance."

Robin sighed. "How long did you search for him afterward?"

"Four hours."

Longer than a normal search lasted. Robin wasn't surprised. Batman considered Static his own personal responsibility, and when he'd gone vigilante… He shook his head. "Do you want me to give it a shot?"

The answer was immediate, and firm. "No."

"You can't keep beating yourself up over this. It wasn't your fault-"

"Wasn't it?"

"You aren't his keeper."

"I'm supposed to keep people like him off the street."

"How were we to know he'd change?"

"I should've known." He leaned against the wall, hanging his head. "If anyone could understand the pain he went through, it'd be me. I should've known he couldn't handle it, should've taken him in at the first sign of trouble."

"Maybe, but you can't torture yourself over should-haves. You taught me that."

Bruce didn't respond, he just stood up and stiffly walked into the changing chamber. Robin waited, knowing that in a few minutes Batman would walk out in full uniform, and the time for talk would be over. He'd order Robin back to the Tower, or maybe just ignore him completely as he left for his nightly surveillance of the city. Either way, Robin wasn't leaving, not yet. Batman wasn't a man of words, nor was he emotional, but sometimes he needed support from his friends.

Even if he'd never acknowledge that fact.

As expected, Batman walked by him, hands clenched, and headed for the Batmobile. Robin raised an eyebrow. Normally Batman preferred the Jet, as it covered more area in less time, and was better equipped to detect concealed hide-outs. As the top of the car slid open and Batman hopped in, he surprised Robin. "The jet is fully fueled. If you think you can find him…I won't stop you."

Robin stood as Batman shut the car and sped off. Well, it wasn't exactly a ringing endorsement, but from that man, it was probably the best he was going to get. Half grinning, he jogged to the jet. He'd reach Dakota in no time with it. The big question was, where would he go once he'd arrived?

* * *

The place was as dreary as he remembered it. Not exactly the greatest suburb in the world, but Static called it home, and who was he to argue with a man overcharged with electricity? And, he had to admit, it was quaint in its own ways. For one thing, the sky was its proper color, and there were actually clean parks. If one ignored the metahumans that terrified the city from time to time, it really was nice. 

But Robin wasn't there to admire the city. He had a mission, he had to find Static. His home was too obvious, and he knew Batman had already searched the Hawkins' residence from top to bottom. Officially, Virgil had run away after the…incident. It wasn't far from the truth, and it was simple enough for Mr. Hawkins to tell anyone who asked.

The Garage that had been Gear and Static's makeshift base was also a dead end, stripped of anything useful and once more left an empty shell. Again, Robin knew Batman had checked the place out, and found nothing. There were a lot of abandoned buildings now, especially since Alva was murdered. If it weren't for the families and downtown, the place would be a ghost town. Robin suspected in a generation or two, it would be, since no other major corporations wanted anything to do with this city.

Including Wayne Enterprises.

On a hunch, he went to GearRichie's neighborhood. It had been steadily losing its residents for three months. The family that begun the exodus had been the Foley's. Not surprising considering the circumstances, and no one had wanted the house afterward. Now it stood, along with the entire block, silent and dark. But Robin had a feeling he'd find his one-time friend here. Maybe that's why Batman had let him search, he was about Static's age and could relate better to him.

He hoped.

Having been to the house before, it was easy for him to climb to the second story window that once belonged to the rising blond hero. When the Foleys had left, they hadn't bothered to bring most of their son's stuff. The computer was gone, as was most of the toys and clothes. But the furniture remained, including the desk, and the bed.

Which had a lightly glowing Static sitting on it, looking at him.

Robin hesitated, unsure of whether he was welcome or not. Not that it should matter, but he had a feeling he'd end up like those three criminals if he pissed off the teenage battery. When the window opened on its ownprobably from a jolt of Static's powerhe took it as an invitation. Climbing in, he got a better look around the room. The posters that had hung were still there, as were a few models. Some clothes hung in the closet, along with a blood-stained uniform.

It was a shrine, he realized. A shrine to the late Gear. Static hadn't said anything, simply watched him, and waited. After another minute, he touched the back of the desk chair and inclined his head. Static nodded, and Robin took a seat. They watched each other in silence, Robin because he wasn't sure what to say, and Static because…well, who knew why.

A beeping noise made Robin jump, and he realized he and Static weren't alone: Backpack was also present. It eyed Robin over, scanning him undoubtedly, then went back into a power-save mode. He wondered of Static could control it, or if it was acting as a sentry based on its own programming. If he had the chance, he'd ask.

"So where's the man in black?"

Ah, so that's where Static wanted to start. Robin shrugged and crossed his arms. "Out patrolling Gotham, last I checked." Static nodded. "How about you, what're you doing here?"

"Remembering."

Robin followed Static's gaze to the Gear uniform. "Good times?"

"Easier times."

"Ah." They were both ignoring the proverbial elephant in the room. Robin knew Static knew this wasn't a social call. "You killed three more today."

"They got what they deserved." The glow surrounding Static's body intensified. "Bastards."

"They weren't the ones that kithey weren't the ones responsible, you know." He was treading on thin ice, but his reflexes were still pretty fast. He could probably make it out the window before Static could hit him. Probably.

"But they were like them. Bank robbers, didn't care who got hurt, just wanted the money."

"And Alva? Ebon? How many criminals have to die before you're satisfied?"

"All of them!" A stray bolt of electricity struck the floor, leaving a scorch mark. "All they do is hurt and kill! They don't deserve a second chance!"

Robin kicked his legs a minute. "You know, Batman told me about a world where the Justice League believed in that. Well, lobotomizing villains. It was peaceful, but the world lived in fear of them." Robin glanced out the window. "You've not only terrified the criminals, but the citizens."

"So what! Maybe if they had been terrified a year ago then those guys wouldn't have robbed the bank and Richie'd-" Static cut himself off, turning his head away from Robin. A quiet sob was heard, but nothing more.

"Hey, I've been there. There have been times I wanted to cross that same line. But I haven't, because I know it's wrong."

"You haven't been there." Static stood and pinned him with a hate-filled glare, an accusing finger aimed at his chest. "Don't you dare lie about that. You have never been there-"

Robin held up his hands, ready to duck. "Alright, alright! I'm sorry! Just charge down!" He waited until Static lowered his hand, though the glow failed to vanish from around the teen. "I was…I simply meant I understand."

"You don't, you can't understand completely. Nobody can." The light dimmed and Static retook his seat, reaching up and removing his mask. They both knew who the other was, so secrecy didn't really matter. "Richie was…he and I…" Whatever Virgil was trying to say, he couldn't get it out, and he just gave up trying.

Robin slid his mask up to his forehead, feeling this was a conversation that didn't involve their hero personas. He watched Virgil, his mind trying to complete what the missing key was. People lost friends all the time, so what was so special about Richie to Virgil? It didn't make sense, at least not unless… And then, it clicked. "You…loved him." He wasn't as shocked as he thought he'd be at the revelation.

Virgil seemed to deflate even further, nodding silently before lowering his head into his hands. "I didn't realize it, not until he was shot. I mean, I knew I could defend my friends and family, that I would do anything to protect them. But when I saw Richie lying there…and the blood…" The teen shuddered. "I know I can't save everybody, but I should've been able to save my friend at least…right?"

Tim wasn't sure how to respond, and Virgil didn't seem to expect an answer, either. It certainly explained a lot, though. Especially why Gear's death had led to Static going ballistic right then and there in the bank. Not even Rubberband Man could calm him down. The five crooksjust normal humanswere fried with the force of fifty lightning bolts. And then Static never left Gear's side, not until the doctors had pronounced him dead.

He vanished for a while after that, both Static and Virgil. No one knew where he went, only that the next time anyone heard from Virgil was at Richie's funeral, which had ended up being crashed by Ebon and his gang. They were celebrating the fact that Gear was dead, and intended to desecrate the grave. Static had appeared, of course, and by the end of the day, three more burial plots were needed. The fourth member of the team had managed to escape with a slight wound. They'd found his head laying by the river the next day, and no one wanted to ask what had happened to the rest of him.

Since that day, Static had become the bane of every Dakota criminal's existence. Rubberband Man had tried to stop him, but one trip to the intensive care unit cured him of that desire. He'd taken his girlfriend and split, unwilling to raise a family in such an environment. Mr. Hawkins remained behind, in the hopes his son would one day return, and metahumans throughout the city began volunteering to be test subjects for Wayne Enterprises' experiments in seeking a Bang Baby cure.

But it didn't answer all of Tim's questions. "Why'd you go after Alva?" Of all the people, the millionaire would've understood Virgil's pain the most, since he'd lost his son.

"He's the sick son of a bitch that turned Richie into Gear, that got him into the superhero business, which got him killed." Virgil ran a hand through his hair. "And he's a heartless bastard that's caused this city nothing by pain." He rocked on the bed, then stood and walked over to the closet, running his hand down one of the costume's sleeves. "He got what he deserved. They all did. And they all will."

"Our job isn't to punish the guilty."

"A fat lot of good the government's done! Did they stop those criminals from getting back on the street? I checked! They had records! They got off on a technicality!" He dropped the sleeve and picked up the helmet, examining it. "The system failed. And my best friend…someone I love died because of it. That's not going to happen again."

Tim watched him, taking in the anger and pain the teen was emoting. As Robin, he knew his duty was to take Static down by any means, and bring him to justice. As Tim, he saw a friend in pain, and could relate to Virgil's feelings and logic. He was torn between his obligation as a hero, and his desire to help a suffering friend.

Maybe that's why Batman hadn't wanted him to go. Batman could separate his feelings from his duties, and wouldn't hesitate to bring Static down. He'd be using this moment of vulnerability to knock the teen out and drag him to a holding cell somewhere. But Robin…he couldn't do that. This wasn't some insane or greedy criminal, this was a teenager that suffered a great loss, and lashed out the only way he knew how. He needed help, not jail time.

But Batman wouldn't see it that way, no one would. Virgilno, Static had killed. Even if they had been lowlifes and insane metahumans, he'd still mercilessly killed. In revenge, no less. He was beyond redemption as far as the League was concerned. That meant there would be no leniency, and what was left of his friend would be lost, chipped away in a facility with hardened criminals.

Virgil traced the back of the faceplate with his hand. "I miss him. So much."

"I know, Virgil."

"He wouldn't have let me get this far. He would've tried to stop me."

"He wouldn't approve of your new style of fighting?"

"No."

"So why continue? Why not honor his memory and fight in a way he'd want you to?"

"You think I haven't tried! Damn it, Tim!" Virgil threw the helmet to the bed and punched the wall. "It's so…so hard! Every time I want to hold back, every time I try to stop myself, I see that man with the gun, and Richie lying there on the floor! I just can't. I can't!" This time, he didn't try and hide the sob, and let the tears fall as his whole body sagged against the closet door. "I can't…"

Tim stood and moved to the bed, gently picking up the helmet and checking for damage. There wasn't any, and he brought it over to the closet, setting it on the shelf it had initially been resting on. This time he ran his hand down the costume's sleeve. He knew of the risks he took every day, and had come to terms with the possible consequences. Obviously, Virgil and Richie hadn't gotten that far.

Sighing, he looked at his friend, who had slid to the floor and was simply sitting there, looking exactly what he sounded like: a broken teen. He squatted down and rubbed Virgil's shoulder, letting his friend gather himself. This probably wasn't the first time Virgil had cried for his loss, and it wouldn't be the last. But it was most likely the first time he'd had someone there to help him. Or at least talk to.

"S-sorry, man." Virgil wiped his eyes after a minute. "I just…"

"Miss him, I know." Tim sat back on his haunches. "Virgil, what will you do when…nothing's left? When the criminals are gone, and the city begins emptying?"

Virgil gave him a half shrug, looking at the floorboards. "I dunno. I can't leave here. Maybe I'll move back to the garage, or turn myself in."

Tim didn't believe him. There was no conviction in his voice, just emptiness. Revenge was his life now, and the instant he had nothing to take it out on, he'd have no reason to live. Virgil wouldn't even go totally psychotic and attack innocent people. When the evil had been rooted out of Dakota, Static would have no more purpose, and neither would Virgil.

"Virgil…I can get you help. I…I'm sure we could work something out with the League, and get someone to patrol and handle Dakota while you were gone." The laugh he got in response did nothing to reassure him. It was cold, empty, and sent shivers down Tim's spine. "Virgil, please."

"You want some advice, Tim? Don't ever fall in love."

Tim blinked at the non-sequitor, unsure of where Virgil's mind was going. But he'd been following it this long, there was no reason to stop now. "Why not?"

"I don't think you'd like these shoes." He wiped his eyes again and pulled out his mask.

Tim watched his friend tie the mask back on, somewhat understanding. Virgil didn't want him to be hurt by a lover's death. "I won't, I promise." A lie, but he wasn't about to upset the teen now. He put his own mask back on, it was time to get back to business. "Virgil, please, come back with me. We CAN work something out. Just don't…don't do this to yourself."

VirgilStatic shook his head and stood up, straightening Gear's uniform one last time before heading for the bedroom door. He turned around as he reached the threshold and leaned against its frame. "I'm gonna miss you, Robin. You've…been a good friend."

Robin stood as well. "Where will you go?" Again, Static shrugged. "Batman will keep looking. He won't just let this go."

"The rate I'm cleaning things up, in another month he won't have to bother looking." He nodded to the top desk drawer. "There's something in there, I've been thinking about who to give it to. I…want you to have it. You'll need it soon."

Robin frowned, but went over to the desk and opened the drawer. He found a single piece of paper, a Will. "Virg-" He was struck with a bolt of electricity before he could finish the word. The last thing he remembered before blacking out was Virgil turning away and walking down the stairs.

* * *

A few hours later, he woke up exactly where he'd collapsed. Richie's room was abandoned, save for Backpack, which was still conserving power. Getting up, he rubbed his head and stared at the paper laying at his feet. He contemplated just leaving it there, but Virgil had entrusted its instructions to him. Sighing, he picked it up, folded it, and stuck it in his belt. He really hoped he wouldn't need it soon, but an uncomfortable feeling in his gut told him otherwise. 

Climbing out the window, and shutting it behind him, he made his way to the parked jet and got in. He set the autopilot for the trip back to the cave. He didn't want to have to focus on flying while thinking over…everything. He'd gone to Dakota to find and bring Static back to answer for his crimes. Well, he'd found Static, and Virgil; what was left of him anyways.

He had to admit, there was an irony to the thinking that he could relate to Static more than Batman could. Batman had lost a sidekick and gone off the deep-end, just like Static. On that fact alone Batman should've been able to figure things out. It wasn't just that fact, though, and there were a number of factors in Batman's favor that Static was lacking. At least Batman had Nightwing and Tim to bring him back from the brink.

Without Gear, who did Static have?

Plus, there was the whole trauma angle. Batman hadn't had a tragedy like that before, other than losing his parents when he was little. Virgil had lost two loved ones within a five year period of time, and on top of that, both of them had been killed by guns. The first time, with Virgil's mother, he'd managed to keep it together. This time, Virgil hadn't, and it could be due to the fact that Richie was gone, or because he had powers and responsibilities he hadn't had before, or maybe it was as basic as the two traumas were closely related.

And the fact that Virgil was in love with Richie? That was the most complicated factor of them all. Batman hadn't loved Robinand if he had, Tim really didn't want to think about it. The death of his sidekick sent Batman to the edge, but he didn't kill criminals, merely maimed them. Virgil had killed every criminal since his friend's death. The need for vengeance was much greater, probably because the pain was worse.

The skyline for Gotham appeared, and Robin quickly double checked that the autopilot was on course. Satisfied things were fine, he pulled out the Will and unfolded it. It was hand written, and it looked more like the rough draft of an essay. Still, Virgil had entrusted him with the responsibility, and maybe it would reveal something about his friend's psyche he'd missed in their talk.

The first thing crossed out were the words "sound mind," a testament to Virgil's sanity. He wasn't completely crazy, but he knew he wasn't in his right mind either. He wanted his body buried next to Richie, something Robin would probably have to pull strings to do. Gear was buried on a hill dedicated to the Heroes of Dakota. Lately, Static didn't fall under that title, but Robin would do his best to fulfill Virgil's wishes.

All of Gear and Static's stuff was entrusted to his father, and anything he didn't want or couldn't keep was left to the League. There was a scribbled note in the margins asking for Backpack to be given to Batman. Robin wondered if Virgil saw Backpack as the last connection he had to Richie, or a pet, or just a piece of equipment. Judging by Virgil's state of mind, he assumed it was the first option, and entrusting something like that to Batman spoke volumes. Even though they were now enemies, Static trusted Batman with his last link to his love.

Other than that, there was nothing. Simple instructions for a simple man. Tim folded the paper back up and tucked it away. He hoped he wouldn't have to look at it again, but Static seemed pretty dead set on joining Gear. From their talk, and his Will, Robin had a feeling getting Virgil help would be futile. The teen would find a way to join Richie one way or another. And in all honesty, the thought made him sick. It wasn't the Virgil he knew, the one he'd joked and fought along side with. It looked like his friend, had the powers of his friend, but it was an empty shell. Inside, Virgil was dead, his heart was just waiting for his body to catch up with that fact.

And Robin never wanted to end up that way.

Circling around the city, Robin settled in as the jet approached the rock face that hid the Batcave. He was now faced with a new dilemma, one he hadn't really thought of before. He knew one of Static's hang-outs, knew what drove the teen, and knew what he was planning to do. So how much of that information should he divulge to Batman? If he revealed it all, Virgil's last refuge, his only sanctuary, would be violated; and he doubted the teen could handle that.

But hiding stuff from Batman was near impossible, and as much as he wanted Virgil saved, there wasn't any future for him. Gear was Virgil's future, and the ex-hero couldn't see anything else. Robin had tried. He'd talked, he'd tried to reason, he even went so far as to beg. Static hadn't budged, but Robin wasn't really surprised. The teen had always been stubborn.

He'd have to settle for telling his mentor half-truths, and prayed that Batman wouldn't look too closely at them. It was the least he could do to help his once friend, though part of him was nauseated at his plan. He was essentially aiding and abetting a homicidal fugitive, and it went against his very nature. But what else could he do? Static had made it clear that anyone who got in his way wouldn't survive the encounter.

Robin knew he had been fortunate in finding Virgil when he had, in a quiet moment. If he had found the teen during a battle, or snuck in, Static probably would've taken him out. Maybe not as bad as the criminals, but at least as bad as Rubberband Man. And if he could do that to a man who was like rubber, it wasn't hard to imagine how much damage he could do to a normal human.

And despite all they did, both he and Batman were mere humans.

Bringing in the League, with aliens that could easily withstand Static's power, was just asking for trouble. Virgil wouldn't let himself be captured. He'd finish himself then and there, rather than risk leaving Dakota and his love. And as despicable as what he was planning felt, he wasn't willing to expedite his friend's death. He would just have to keep what he knew secret, up to and after the demise of Static. He could only hope, when he finally did reveal the truth, that they'd understand his reasons for keeping the knowledge secret.

He let out a long breath as the plane landed, gathering his wits. Batman would be waiting for him, of course. And he'd interrogate Robin about what transpired. Robin would spin his half-truths, then high-tail it out of there. But he knew that wouldn't be the end of it. Somehow, StaticVirgil would contact him before the end.

And he would make one final trip to Dakota.

* * *

Author's Prattle: This has been sitting on my hard drive for a while. It came from…well, initially it was gonna be a discussion between Batman and Static, but it evolved into this (and Robin now shows up in many of my plots with SS). There are a number of fics with Richie dead, or Virgil dead…but no one's really explored the darker side of 'what if.' Sure, Virgil's a good guy, but he's also a teenager. The road to hell and all that. Also, MAJOR shout-out to Sumsum and Deani, excellent betas (and with DC voices down pat). 

Disclaimer. As always, I don't own anything but the plot. Static Shock, as well as Teen Titans and Batman, belong to DC Comics. I'm just borrowing them to flex my creative muscles.

As always, I hoped you enjoyed this little story, and feedback is welcome.


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